


The Professional

by SpawnofAnarion



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpawnofAnarion/pseuds/SpawnofAnarion
Summary: Something is wrong in Paris. The Justice League has received reports of a crisis in the city of lights, involving a supervillain and two previously unknown teenage superheroes. Though not a top priority for the League, it has decided to send someone to evaluate the situation--and the two teenagers--to ensure that all is well.Who could be better for the job than another young hero, the son of Batman himself?...nothing could possibly go wrong.





	1. The Listener

It was Monday, and even though they had a literature test, Marinette was still extremely happy. Alya had convinced Nino that the two of them, Marinette, and Adrien… oh, sweet, wonderful Adrien… should go to lunch together today. Talk about the best friend ever! Of course, she was also beyond nervous about it, but for the time being she was able to put off the anxiety and bask in the soft warm sunrays of a future Adrien-filled lunchtime…

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Miss Bustier—her homeroom teacher—said, startling Marinette out of her daydreams. 

“Yes! Ah, I mean, present.” Marinette said, a little too quickly. She glanced down at Adrien, who luckily didn’t seem to have noticed. That would have been embarassing. 

“Woah there, girl—don’t go flouncing off to dreamland just yet!” Alya whispered, grinning at her from her customary seat. 

“What? I wasn’t flouncing!” Marinette protested, also whispering.

“What would you call it then? Drifting, floating, swooning—“ Alya continued.

“Silence, please.” Miss Bustier said, looking pointedly in their general direction. Marinette winced, quieting down and noticing that Miss Bustier had actually just finished roll call. Unusually, she hadn’t begun to hand out their chemistry tests.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention, I have a special announcement to make.” Miss Bustier said, gesturing to the door. To everyone’s surprise, a boy with finely combed black hair, alert green eyes and a small scowl strode through the door and turned to face them.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet Damian Wayne, a recent transfer student from America. He’ll be joining our class for the rest of the year.” Miss Bustier announced. Marinette couldn’t believe what she was hearing—another student, in the middle of the semester? There was no way he’d be able to catch up, especially if he was an American and had to deal with the language barrier. Also, he didn't exactly look very friendly...

“Whaaat?” Quite possibly the worst person Marinette had ever met exclaimed. “THE Damian Wayne? Son of billionaire Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes, Chloe.” Miss Bustier said, exasperation evident to everyone but the most oblivious. Which was to say, Chloe.

“Oh! Why didn’t my father tell me about this?” Marinette’s rival demanded.

“It was, ah, very last-minute.” Miss Bustier replied.

“Well, then—“ Chloe turned to Sabrina, her best—and only—friend, “you, go and sit up there now.” She pointed to the back row where Ivan and Nicholas sat. “Damian can have your spot.”

“B-but, Chloe—“ Sabrina protested.

“What did I just say! Get out of here!” Chloe said, shooing a stricken Sabrina away from her spot. Turning to Damian, she patted the newly vacated spot and smiled what was probably supposed to be an inviting smile.

“You—can—sit—here—now—Damian.” She said, very slowly, as if talking to a child. The Damian in question looked her over, frowned, and said something in English to Miss Bustier.

“Ah… it seems that Damian would like to take the back spot next to Nathaniel.” Miss Bustier said. 

“What—no! Tell him I told him he could sit next to me!” Chloe spluttered.

“I’m sorry, Miss Bourgeois, but he said quite clearly that he was refusing your offer. Apparently, he prefers the back.” Miss Bustier replied. Chloe looked dumbstruck, then began to glare, and Marinette could barely resist the urge to laugh.

Sabrina slunk her way back into her spot as the foreign boy began to climb the stairs. Marinette watched as his eyes flitted over everything and everyone, as if taking in the entire room, before landing on her own. They narrowed, and she quickly looked back down at her desk, alarmed by the intensity in his stare.

“In any case, I will now hand out the tests. Remember, try to save a half hour for the essay questions!” Miss Bustier said, picking up a pile of papers. She walked up, passing them along, until everyone had one. Well, almost everyone.

Damian spoke up again, again in English. Miss Bustier looked surprised, and asked something back. Damian smirked and said something back. Miss Bustier shrugged, walked back down to her desk, picked up the sample copy of the test and brought it up to Damian.

“Is he… is he gonna take the test?” Alya whispered.

“Wha—I don’t know! I guess.” Marinette replied. “Let’s just concentrate on the test for now, alright?”

The test went surprisingly well, considering Marinette’s studying had been interrupted by an Akumatized man who loved taxidermy, maybe the most disturbing opponent Ladybug and Chat Noir had faced so far. Marinette was distracted, however, when the new boy strode down barely half an hour in, placed a completed test on the desk, and sauntered out into the hall. She’d tried not to be distracted but the strange *tt* sound he made on the way out irritated her. It was as if he was dismissing the whole class for being slower than him.

Marinette handed in her test, preparing to walk out—when Miss Bustier pulled her aside.

“Ah, Marinette—I’m sorry I couldn’t inform you of this earlier, but arrangements have been... well, sudden. This is apparently Damian’s first time in Paris, and he doesn’t know his way around the school. Principal Damocles decided that it would be for the best if you, as class deputy, gave Damian a tour of the grounds over lunch and help him settle in.” Miss Bustier said.

“Wah—lunch, today? B-but…” Marinette began to protest.

“You will be able to earn back extra credit for your absences by doing this. The school needs your help here.” Miss Bustier said. Marinette sighed, dreams of a lovely lunch with Adrien withering away… but duty called. Now that she thought about it, it must be a bit scary to be in a new country, surrounded by unfamiliar people, in a place you didn’t know… she’d do her best to help.

“You can count on me, Miss Bustier.” She said, with limited enthusiasm. Miss Bustier nodded.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Her teacher patted her on the shoulder, then went back to her desk, and Marinette turned to leave.

Marinette found her charge waiting just outside the doors, leaning back on a nearby set of lockers. On further inspection, he was dressed a bit more formally than she was used to seeing at school, with a blue tie and a black dress-shirt under a light grey suit. It was well-made, plain but clearly some designer brand—probably ludicrously expensive, given that she could barely even perceive the threads, even with her trained eye, so the thread count must have been higher than anything normally on the market. She’d have asked about it, professional interest in design and all—it really did look nice—but the scowl on his face didn’t encourage conversation.

“Hi!” She tried, smiling at him. His expression didn’t waver. He said something to her in English that she didn’t understand.

“I, uh, don’t speak English, heh… sorry.” She said, scratching her head. She reached out with her hand. “I’m Marinette! Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It’s, ah, nice to meet you.”

Damian looked at the hand, then looked back up at her. She began to feel extremely aware of the fact that she was holding her hand out into space, waiting for a handshake that might not ever come, and felt her anxiety spark even more. What was with this guy? Luckily, after a moment, he extended his hand and shook hers, firmly. He pointed to himself with his other hand. 

“Damian. Wayne.” He said. Staring intently—almost glaring—at her. She resisted the urge to frown. He gestured towards the hallway. Marinette blinked for a moment, then remembered what she was there to do.

“Oh! Yeah, the tour. Right. Well, I guess we’d better start, huh?” She asked. Damian cocked his head and said something in English that she, again, didn’t understand.

“Oh. Right. Uh, follow me!” She said, beginning to walk down the hall and gesturing for him to follow. After a moment, to her relief, he did. If only telling Adrien how she felt was that easy… it was so hard to even talk to the guy! It was so hard to explain to anyone just how big her crush on Adrian was, even Alya! They all gossiped in the same circles, after all, and it was just too embarrassing to tell anyone. It was really a tough situation.

Well, wait a second… there was someone she could tell.

 

Adrien was surprised at how well that test had gone, considering the complete lack of sleep his taxidermy-nightmare-filled dreams had caused. Akumatized or no, that guy had been a bit creepy. Regardless, he was looking forward to eating lunch with his best friend, his best friend’s girlfriend, and Marinette, who was… a good friend? He hoped that they were friends. She seemed to have trouble talking to him whenever she was talking to Adrien… maybe that first day really had put her off. She’d been so different when he talked with her as Chat Noir. That, and the fact that her designs were so cool—she’d designed the cover of Jagged’s album! How amazing was that?—really made him want to get to know her a little better, outside of the mask. Today was going to be a great chance for that.

“Hey, Alya!” He said, walking up to the journalist-in-training outside of class. Nino had already met up with her, and had been chatting with Alya before Adrien had showed up. “Where’s Marinette?”

“I’m not sure—she’s probably just gotten sidetracked.” Alya said, smiling. Then, her phone buzzed.

“Ah, hey, a text—“ Alya stared at her phone. “What? No… oh, come on, girl…” 

“What? What is it?” Adrien asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Apparently principal Damocles ordered her to go show around that new guy—the American kid—over lunch break! I can’t believe this.” Alya said, groaning.

“Oh.” Adrien said, feeling a bit more disappointed than he’d have expected. He really had been looking forward to seeing her at lunch. “Well, maybe tomorrow then…”

“Wait wait wait—hold up. Doesn’t this guy need to eat, too? We could all go to lunch!” Nino said, grinning. “Oh hey, look—there they are!” Adrien’s friend said, pointing. Adrien followed his finger, looking across the courtyard to see the familiar blue-black ponytailed Marinette walking along the balcony in front of the figure that was unmistakably the new guy. Not just walking, he realized—she was talking to him, too. Really enthusiastically, by the look of things. 

“Oh, that’s perfect! Great idea, Nino!” Alya exclaimed, embracing her boyfriend. Adrien smiled. If he could get Marinette talking like that, maybe it’d be fun to have the exchange student along.

“Here, I’ll text her right now!” Alya said, typing into her phone.

 

“Thanks again for listening to me! I mean, I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but it’s just nice to get it out. I’ve told Alya some of the embarrassing things, but I never told her about the time I tried to stea—uh, borrow Adrien’s sweater because it, um, smelled nice, but my plan didn’t work and I ended up with Chloe’s gum stuck in my hair… and she still teases me about making a calendar of his schedule, but, I mean, how else am I supposed to--oh, here’s the gym, by the way. You know, gym?” She mimed jogging and lifting weights, only to be met with the continuous inscrutable stare of her charge.  
“Yeah, I bet you’ve got it. Well, on to—oh hey, Alya just texted me! It’s probably about lunch, oh geez…” Marinette scanned the text. “Huh, she’s wondering if you want to come to lunch with us. Oh—omigosh, that’d be perfect!” She looked back up to the black-haired boy, who’d raised an eyebrow. “Would you please, please come? I’ve been wanting to sit across from Adrien all day—who am I kidding, my whole life, his eyes are so dreamy—and this lunch could actually give me a real reason to have a conversation with him! I’ve always wanted to know what his favorite color was, and what he does for fun, and if he’s single, and if not if it’s an open relationship, and what kind of clothes he likes most so I can make them for him—“ She reined in her breathing, calming herself down. The boy just stood there, silently watching, eyebrow still raised.  
“Wow, Marinette. Wow. Okay. Anyways, would you like to go get some lunch with my friends and I?” Marinette asked. The foreign boy continued to stare. It was unnerving how little he blinked. Marinette resisted the urge to sigh, and tried again—this time with exaggerated gestures.  
“Would you,” she pointed to Damian, who looked down at her pointed finger and then back up at her, “like to go eat lunch,” she mimed eating a hamburger, not really sure what else Americans ate, “with me,” she pointed at herself, “and my friends.” She pointed to the other group. The boy didn’t respond, just staring.  
“I guess that’s a yes.” Marinette said, shrugging. She gestured for him to follow her down the stairs. 

They’d made it halfway to her friends when they were intercepted by a pair of completely unwelcome faces.

“Hahaha! Oh, look—it’s miss goody-two-shoes doing tour guide service! Wow, if this is what you get for being student rep, you can keep the job!” Chloe said, cackling. 

“Y-yeah, it’s so sad, Chloe!” Sabrina echoed.

“Go away, Chloe.” Marinette said, trying to brush past the blonde girl and her minion—but they blocked her path.

“Oh, you aren’t getting off that easy, See, I heard about your little lunch with Adrien…” Chloe said, smiling cruelly, “I hope you realize he’d never even look twice at you. You’re as common, boring, and poor as they come.” She said. The words rang in Marinette’s ears. C-common? Boring? She… she’d never seen herself as that interesting… in fact, she was clumsy, and forgetful, and broke promises…

Chloe was a terrible, horrible person, but what if she was right? Adrien was so amazing, and kind, and popular, and rich—and she definitely wasn’t. She’d never thought that could be a problem before, but what if it was? Would sweet, humble Adrien really care about that? But… there were rich, funny, popular girls out there… what if she really wasn’t the right one for…

“Chloe, stop it…” she said, desperately trying to shake the thoughts out of her head.

“Oooh, the truth hurts, doesn’t it? Anyways, as I was saying, this little lunch thing is absolutely ri-diculous. You’re going to stay here, or I’ll tell Miss Bustier that you took your stupid little foreign mute here out on the town instead of babysitting him at the school like you were supposed to. In the mean time, I’m going to go take Adrien to lunch.” Chloe finished with a self-satisfied smile.

“D-don’t talk about Damian like that. It’s not his fault he can’t understand.” Marinette said, standing her ground. She’d deal with all the baggage later, even if the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids weren’t going away anytime soon.

“Aww, already found a replacement for your little crush, have you? You’re pretty easy, Marinette. I wonder what Adrien will think of that.” Chloe said, and the tears began to spill over now—why was she being so horrible? The wretched girl leaned into Damian’s face as Marinette’s fists clenched, smiling wide.

“Who’s a good little foreign idiot, now? You seem stupid enough to be Marinette’s boyfriend. You can’t even speak a proper language, just that english drivel.” Chloe asked, smiling like she was giving him a compliment. Damian stared back at her, and then smiled. Marinette felt horrible.

“Chloe, stop!” Marinette shouted, anger finally rising above her other emotions. It wasn’t easy to bring it out in her, but this was way too far. She wouldn’t stand by and see someone teased like this.

“What, can’t you see he likes it? I’ve got a great idea—let’s call you filthy migrant boy from now on!” Chloe said to Damian, still smiling. It hurt Marinette to see the boy still smiling back. She didn’t know what to do. How had everything become so horrible? 

“Well, filthy migrant boy, what do you think about that?” Chloe asked, laughing.

“I think that you’re a waste of space that should’ve been disposed of long ago.” Damian replied, in flawless Parisian French, still smiling. “Also, you should probably be certain that someone doesn’t speak the language before you decide to insult them to their face, you despicable, insipid wench.”

“Y-y-y-y-ou…” Marinette stuttered, mouth dropping open in horror as she stared at the black-haired boy’s face. Chloe looked like she’d been shot. “Y-yo-y-ou-you sp-p-eak—“

“French?” The boy asked, face returning to its bemused frown. “*tt*. Of course I do. Who would come to study in France if they didn’t speak the language?”

“B-b-buh…” Marinette managed, the implications of him understanding what she could say—or more accurately, what she had said—sinking in. “Y-ou… you didn’t say anything…”

“There was nothing I wanted to say. I decided acting ignorant would be a better way of learning about this place than asking questions. It’s an easy way of figuring out who people really are. Naturally, I was completely right. I’ve learned much.” His eyes turned from Marinette, who was struggling to breath, back to Chloe.

“Hey guys—is everything alright?” Ayla said, coming up behind them with Nino and… oh no, Adrien…

“Yeah, we heard shouting.” Nino said. 

“Marinette, are you okay?” Adrien asked, looking at her, and she felt horror and fear and inadequacy pressing up against the inside of her lungs as she desperately looked back and forth between Damian and the dumbfounded nightmare that was Chloe Bourgeois. Damian continued to glare, and Chloe continued to stare back at him like a deer in the headlights of some highly-specialized bat-shaped vehicle.

“It is entirely possible that you are one of the worst human beings I have ever met. Bear in mind, I have met assassins, some of them as they tried to murder me in my sleep.” He turned away from the dumbfounded blonde and looked at the others.

“Greetings. I am Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne and heir to Wayne Enterprises. Now, where exactly are we going for lunch?”


	2. The Truth-Teller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch is had.

The sun was up, the chairs at the cafe were surprisingly comfortable, but in spite of it all Adrien still wasn’t having a good time. The food was delicious, but he was too distracted to enjoy it. Something was wrong. Specifically, something was wrong with Marinette, and she wasn’t telling anyone about it. She wouldn’t even look at him, which hurt a little. Was it something he’d said or done, then? Did she just not trust him that much? And then, of course, there was Wayne.

“So, Agreste—you’re the model.” The boy said, making it more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah.” Adrien replied. Something about the Wayne heir’s cocky attitude just didn’t sit well with him.

“Got a lot of fans, I’d imagine.” Wayne continued, picking up the pickle from his sandwich plate and staring intently at it for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

“Yeah, tons of ‘em. We got trapped in his car by a crowd of them once.” Nino said, smiling. “Ah, that was a day…”

“Hey, don’t forget who got you out of that mess.” Ayla said, grinning.

“Oh, how could I ever?” Nino said, smiling back. 

“That many, hm? If you’ve got so many fans, I’d be surprised if there wasn’t at least one nearby right now, this very second.” Wayne said, staring absently past Adrien.

“Ah, I guess so.” Adrien replied, not really sure what he was getting at. Wayne smirked.

“I’m just saying, there’s probably at least one of your biggest fans in class with you every day, all things considered.” The black-haired heir said, picking up his sandwich. Nino and Ayla had already begun to eat, but Adrien wasn’t feeling very hungry and Marinette hadn’t even responded to the waiter, just staring intently at her plate and shuddering every so often instead, which—though admittedly Adrien did not know her very well—seemed unlike her.

“Sure… I guess? What’re you trying to say?” Adrien asked. Wayne glanced over at Marinette, who froze solid for some reason. This exchange made Adrien uneasy.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Wayne said, still smirking.

“Uh, okay.” Adrien replied. “Do you have fans? You seem like a pretty important guy.” He asked. Wayne actually laughed at that, though it wasn’t so much a laugh as a restrained chuckle.

“No, no. I prefer to keep my affairs private.” Wayne said. Affairs…? That phrase should have been innocuous, but he’d said it with just enough emphasis to make Adrien wonder. 

“Hey, so, Damian—can I call you Damian?” Alya asked. Wayne looked like he wanted to say no—which made Adrien realize that the unease he’d been feeling was beginning to bloom into dislike—but after a second of contemplation Wayne replied,  
“If you must.”

“Wonderful! So, Damian, what’s it like to be the son of an American billionaire?” She asked. The Wayne heir’s face remained impassive.  
“Often excessively taxing when reporters are involved.” Wayne replied, his reply making Alya visibly deflate a little.

“Oh—ah, why’s that?” Alya asked, ever ready with the follow-up question. The Wayne kid smirked, which made Adrien frown. 

“Well—“ the Wayne kid reached down, grabbed a rock off of the ground, and threw it up and behind him without looking. Adrien could only blink in confusion. He, Alya, Nino, and even Marinette all stared—everyone aside from the Wayne kid—completely at a loss. They followed the rock’s arc high through the sky and as it curved back towards the ground, and they heard a crunch as it landed behind a car on the far side of the street, followed by an anguished cry of “Noooo—my camera!”

“—most simply do not comprehend the meaning of privacy. *tt*.” Wayne finished. 

“H-how did you—“ Alya began to ask. Wayne froze her with a look.

“There are many who have tried to pry into my personal life. All have met with failure, but I am well aware of their tactics. Try if you like, but I will not be catalogued like some primitive primate in some pathetic little zoo.” Wayne replied. Alya looked insulted.

“E-excuse me? I’m not some paparazzo trying to steal your dirty laundry—I was just asking a simple friggin question, not fishing for an interview!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms.

“The phone with the open recording app you’ve been hiding behind your sandwich tray says otherwise.” Wayne said, reaching out and shoving the tray aside to reveal the incriminating phone.

“Hey, dude, take it easy,” Nino said, frowning. 

“Take what easy? This invasion of my personal privacy? I could sue.” Wayne replied. That coil of liquid dislike that had begun to seep through Adrien was definitely beginning to freeze solid and harden.  
“Whoa whoa whoa—that’s going too far.” Nino said, frown deepening as Alya blanched.

“You can’t be serious. She didn’t mean any harm.” Adrien seconded.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. That is ultimately my decision to make, I believe.” Wayne replied, smirking slightly. Adrien felt a dash of loathing jolt into the dislike, and resisted the impulse to scowl. He’d met this boy’s kind before—people who went after others just because they could, lording their power over everyone else. It made him sick.

“You don’t have grounds.” Marinette said—voice suddenly full of confidence. Her eyes were trained on Wayne’s as he turned to look back at her, full of what struck Adrien as uncharacteristic irritation.

“Of course I have grounds.” Wayne said, face alarmingly neutral. It reminded Adrien of his modeling expression, though he had no idea what emotions Wayne would be trying to hide at this moment.

“Not if we all vouch against you and there’s no proof of the recording.” Marinette said, calmly. Wayne actually blinked at that, with what Adrien supposed must have been surprise. Adrien couldn’t help but stare at Marinette now, a little awed that she’d managed to come up with this counter so fast. She really was smart, wasn’t she? He’d seen her designs—heck, he’d worn her hat. There was a certain cleverness in those stitches…

“A fair point. I suppose you’re getting off with a warning today.” Wayne said, brushing the corners of his mouth with his napkin. Adrien would have sighed with relief, but he didn’t want to give this jerk the satisfaction.

“A warning? That’s funny.” A voice said, causing all of them to look over. Adrien felt his alarm and adrenaline spike.

“I’m not letting you get off with anything. I am The Green Diviner, and all of your secrets will be mine!” A strange, green-and-yellow striped suit wearing figure with the unmistakably twisted face of an Akuma victim said, grinning evilly at them.

Instinctually, Adrien grabbed the people on his side of the table by the waist—Alya and Nino—and dove away, just missing the flurry of pens that slammed into their table with a machine-gun-like staccato. Feeling a surge of panic, he looked desperately for Marinette and Damian—only to see that they’d both jumped away as well, landing with practiced grace outside of the damage zone.

“Huh.” The Akuma victim said, cocking his head. “You’re quick.”

“Run!” Adrien shouted, pushing Alya and Nino in front of him as he began to sprint. He looked desperately for something to hide behind, shoving his friends towards a narrow alleyway.

“No!” Alya said, turning and running back towards where her phone had fallen. “My footage—“

The Akuma victim flicked his hand in her direction, and suddenly a handful of pens smacked into her. Adrien felt a ball of dread drop into his stomach as she yelped, but she didn’t seem to be in any pain.

“Give me your deepest secrets.” The green-clad super villain said, grinning maliciously. Adrien ducked into a nearby building though an open door as Nino ran forward to try and grab Alya. Adrien immediately transformed as he began to hear Alya speak.

“I… I don’t always like looking after my little sisters. I wish that Ladybug would be my best friend. I wish that I could be a super hero. I… I'm s-s-seriously i-i-i—“ she seemed to be doing her best to resist that last one, and Chat Noir peeked out to see Nino trying desperately to pull her away from where she was rooted to the spot. The Akuma victim seemed to be taking notes, nodding intently.

“—in love with Nino!” She finally blurted out. “I’ve got a picture of him in my locker that I look at every day and I wrote a couple of love poems for him that I keep under my pillow and he’s so nice and funny and caring and I keep dreaming about taking him on a romantic trip to Venice!” Alya finally blurted, before her face turned a shade of red so bright it seemed to emit a visible aura of heat.

Adrien, who had been about to make his dramatic appearance from the doorway, stopped and stared. He watched Nino’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, fixed on the girl whose shoulders he still held. He looked at her like she’d just fallen out of the sky.

“Doesn’t that just feel so much better?” The Green Diviner said, smirking. “Your turn.” 

Before Adrien could do anything, a wave of pens shot towards Nino—but something rushed between them. The pens were caught up in a whir of white cloth and thrown aside. Damian Wayne dropped the now pen-holed tablecloth and eyed the Akuma victim critically, apparently not afraid at all. Adrien had to admit it was a little impressive.

“tt. What kind of attack was that supposed to be?” The Wayne heir asked, settling into a fighting stance with surprising ease.

“One that comes back to haunt you. See, now my pens have found their true mark—you!” The Akuma victim exclaimed, pointing dramatically at Wayne as the pens he’d deflected rose again and turned to point at the boy from all directions.

Thankfully, a red-and-black blur knocked them out of the air.

“You should really keep your plans a bit more private, mister.” Ladybug said from a nearby building as she tugged her yoyo back into her palm, looking—in Adrien’s humble opinion— absolutely stunning. Even in combat she made is heart beat faster.

“Ooh—I sense so many secrets in you! Such knowledge for the taking.” The Diviner said, turning to throw some pens at Ladybug—which Adrien’s lady of course dodged with ease. As the Akuma victim turned, however, Adrien caught sight of the notepad at his side—a notepad that, he noticed, had the words ‘Nino’ and ‘Venice’ written on it, now. That had to be where the Akuma was hiding. In the meantime, Nino seemed to have gotten all of the pens out of Alya, but despite being free she still just stood there, refusing to look up from intensely studying her own feet. It was like she was trying to shrink into herself.

“Gah! Such acrobatics—you evade me so easily!” The Akuma fumed, missing Ladybug yet again.

“I have to say I’m a-green with you on that one, her moves are pretty divine!” Chat Noir said, pouncing onto the villain from behind. The man snarled, but Adrien had knocked him over, pressing his knees into his upper arms and effectively locking the villain down.

“It’s the notepad!” Adrien shouted to his lady, who had leaped down only feet away. Her yoyo flickered forward, retrieving the notepad in an instant. It was one of those little impressive things she did that reminded him just how completely and utterly amazing she was. The satisfied smirk she now wore at their victory made his heart flutter as she prepared to tear the pad of paper in half.

“No, wait!” Nino shouted. They all looked at him in confusion, even Alya, who was still blushing redder than Marx. Nino looked at all of them, picked up a pen, and then stuck it into his arm with a yelp.

“I… I still feel bad about the whole Bubbler thing. I sometimes lie about having a gig when I want to avoid people and get some alone time. I know my parents don’t approve of my musical career, and I feel like a burden to them sometimes… I—“ he stared at the girl next to him—“am totally in love with Alya. I wrote like five love songs about her, and I listen to them and daydream about going on dates to concerts or cruises down the Siene with her sometimes. I’m just too scared to tell her because she’s so amazing and smart and beautiful and I’m just a dork she knows from school.” Nino finished, face now burning red.

Once again, everyone paused and stared—everyone including Alya, whose eyes seemed to be shining with some combination of shock, happiness, and disbelief.

“Now?” Ladybug asked. Nino nodded, and she ripped the notebook in half. The little Akuma began to fly away, but Ladybug caught it with her yoyo and with a shout of “Time to de-evilize!” She cleansed it of the evil magic and let it fly away. The Green Diviner dissolved away into a man who appeared to be just a normal papparazzo, who Adrien climbed off of. The man was holding a broken camera in one hand and looking around with the standard post-akuma daze in his eyes.

“Huh. That was easier than usual.” Ladybug said.

“Of course—you’re so pawesome, how could it go any other way?” Chat Noir said, throwing a grin his Lady’s way. She just rolled her eyes.

“Would someone care to explain exactly what has just transpired here?” An irritated Wayne asked, scowling at the two of them. Both looked at him, then looked back at each other.  
“Do we have to?” Adrien tried to convey through his eyes, and his Lady’s small smile and shake of her head was enough of a response for him to understand completely.   
Both of them then turned and took off running in opposite directions.

 

Adrien came back out through the building door and looked around. Nino and Alya were both standing next to each other, neither looking at the other, but neither moving away either. It sounded like they were making extremely awkward small-talk about the weather. Wayne appeared to be interrogating the de-Akumatized Akuma victim, who he’d somehow handcuffed to a streetlamp. Marinette seemed to be walking back from where she’d run before, and was at the far side of the plaza.

“Hi guys—what happened? Is everyone okay?” Adrien asked. Nino twirled faster than Adrien would have thought possible and practically sprinted to where Adrien stood.

“We’re all fine! I’m glad you made it back okay—Chat Noir and Ladybug saved us big time!” Nino said, so loudly that he was practically shouting. Then, he leaned in a little.

“Dude—you’ve gotta help me out. Please!” Nino whispered, desperation in his eyes.

“Help you with what?” Adrien asked, looking up and past his friend as Alya practically flew over to Marinette.

“Marinette! I’m so glad you’re okay—you missed a heck of a fight! Ladybug and Chat Noir saved the day as usual, haha!” She proclaimed, also just a little too loud, before leaning in closer to her friend. Nino gestured in their general direction.

“With—with her, man! Alya. We, ah, well, um…” Nino turned redder than he’d been before, almost unhealthily so. “Look, it’s hard to explain, but I’ve gotta, I dunno, do something for her, man!” He finished. Adrien grinned a little.

“Sooo… finally getting around to really wooing your girl, eh?” Adrien asked, somehow adding even more layers of red to the already complete redness that was the cheeks of Nino.

“No! Maybe. I mean… yeah. Yes. Definitely.” Nino conceded, glancing back nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, dude, I’ll help.” Adrien said, smiling. Nino sent him a relieved grin.

“Thanks, man… I’m not sure that I could pull this off alone.” Nino said. Adrien’s friend pulled out his phone, and then blanched.

“Dude—we’ve got ten minutes to get back to class!” Nino exclaimed, clapping a hand to his head. Adrien frowned, checking his watch—surely enough, it was almost time.

“We should get moving.” Adrien said, motioning over to the two girls, who seemed to be deep in their own conversation. It didn’t work. He glanced at Nino, who shrugged.

“Hey, guys!” Adrien shouted, causing both of the girls to turn. “We’ve got to get back to class!” He finished. Both of the girls pulled out their phones, then rushed over. They all began to walk back. After a moment, Damian followed, muttering something that Adrien couldn’t make out. 

With luck, they would all be back to class on time.


	3. The Nightwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris after dark.

Luck wasn’t with them. Alya’d planned out the lunch timing pretty perfectly, but hadn’t accounted for a rogue Akuma attack interrupting things, and by the time they made it back to the classroom they were ten minutes late. Mrs. Mendeliev had just begun explaining a geometry problem and squinted at them with irritation as they came through the door. Adrien didn’t really know what to do. Marinette, though, immediately launched into an apology mixed with the excuse that she was fulfilling her duties as class representative and there’d been an akuma attack. Mrs. Mendeliev just nodded and motioned them back to their seats. 

Adrien hadn’t been able to focus very well for the rest of class; his thoughts were preoccupied. On one hand there was poor Nino to think about. He’d always thought it was weird how Nino and Alya seemed to dance around making serious commitment. They were dating, sure—but both of them had been adamant about ‘taking it slow’ and ‘easing into things’ for months now. Personally, though he lacked much experience, Adrien had to say it seemed kinda silly. Both of them—or at least Nino, though he thought he’d noticed it in Alya—were insecure, even a little afraid, and neither of them had really had a committed relationship before. It was pretty clear to Adrien and pretty much anyone around them, though, that the two had already fallen for each other. He’d seen the hearts Nino had doodled in his notebook, and caught Alya staring at his best friend with a little dreamland smile more than once. It seemed like they were both more worried that their feelings might not be reciprocated than anything.

They were boyfriend and girlfriend, sure, but they rarely hung out alone together. They’d still never gone on a real, fancy-dinner-romantic date. 

Adrien Agreste wasn’t a betting man by nature. He wouldn’t put money on them taking the plunge, and wouldn’t push them towards anything. Chat Noir, on the other hand… Chat Noir would have them cruising down the Seine and dining to fine violins without a moment’s paws.  
He wouldn’t have to do it alone, though: he had a partner in crime. Speaking of whom—on the other hand—he was also preoccupied by thoughts of his pigtail-haired friend. 

Twice in one day, Marinette had taken charge of a situation, successfully ending a conflict with a figure of authority—though granting Wayne even that grudging distinction was irritating, it was still accurate—and somehow it seemed to come naturally to her. Adrien was really starting to see a different, more confident side of her, a Marinette who fit her accomplishments with art and courage with Chat Noir much better than the Marinette he’d thought he’d known. Why had she always seemed so clumsy and nervous before?

It was a mystery for another day, though. Adrien turned his attention to his classes, which went by too quickly for his taste. He barely had time to say goodbye to Nino and the others as he was driven, first to an autograph signing, then to a small but still painfully boring photoshoot, and then to a meeting with Agreste designers to help ‘boost company morale’ (smile, wave, read a speech someone else had written off of a teleprompter—Adrien had wondered more than once if his father had plans of sending him into politics sometime in the future… not for the first time he had a vision of himself in a tricolor sash, unhappily married to Chloe and desperately trying to buy the affection of their only daughter, and quickly dropped the mental subject).

All in all, it was several exhausting hours before he could finally get back home. Natalie had greeted him at the door, handed him the crisp and freshly printed schedule for the week with added updates, and informed him that his father was at work in his study. Adrien had spent a lot of time wondering why Natalie always mentioned that; it was like saying the sky was blue or the Seine was flowing. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if the sky turned pink and the Siene dried up before Gabriel Agreste welcomed his son home.

So, Adrien had gone to his room, studied, completed his homework, eaten dinner, and fallen asleep at 6.

At 10, Chat Noir woke. Free, at last.

He stretched, hummed, and poked Plagg.

“Eh, leave me alone—the gouda is almost in my grasp…” Plagg mumbled.

“You can catch dream cheese later, Plagg! Ladybug is waiting for us.” Adrien said. Plagg grumbled, but shook himself awake.

And then they were out the window and flying across the rooftops of Paris, sprinting through the cool gusts of the autumn and racing past a blur of colored lights. The taste of tobacco smoke, fresh rain, and a thousand cuisines was sharp on his tongue. He’d heard people say that the city air was oppressive, even disgusting. Sure, sometimes you caught a whiff of garbage or worse, and pollution brought in the smog sometimes. But, to Adrien, the smell of the city only reminded him of soaring through the air, heart beating, wind rushing, mouth grinning, free and alive. And, just as—if not more—importantly, on his way to see the woman of his dreams. 

They’d been doing the patrols for awhile now. Adrien had almost burst with enthusiasm back when his lady had suggested it, because it meant that they would be meeting—regularly—to ‘compare notes’ and ‘make the city that much safer’. Really, they jumped around Paris, took breaks, chatted, and stopped the occasional muggings and robberies that they came across as best they could. It was quality time with Ladybug, plain and simple, and Adrien treasured every minute of it.

Tonight they were meeting at their usual Wednesday spot—a nice, hidden rooftop garden only a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower. It had everything—trestles with grapes and tomatoes, a little apple tree, all sorts of flowers and herbs, a nice pair of benches, and even a fountain in the middle. Neither of them had any idea who it belonged to, but it had just seemed too enticing a spot to pass up. 

Adrien felt his heart lift as he somersaulted over the last rooftop and made out a certain brilliant red among the green. The moon was bright, though the skies were cloudy. Sometimes the pale light dipped into hiding and left Paris in darkness, save for the orange glow of the streetlamps and the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. It hadn’t bothered Adrien much, anyway; with Chat Noir’s night-vision, leaping the rooftops at night was kittens play.

Adrien’s feet hit the garden’s tile and he rolled forward, sprung up onto his feet, and let the momentum gently bring him forward to lean on a thicker trellis post with one arm.

“What’s new, Bugaboo?” He asked, grinning. Ladybug, who’d watched him from the bench since he landed, rolled her eyes—but she was smiling. That was a win.

“Silly kitty. Always so dramatic.” Ladybug said, catching his eyes in her blue ones. Adrien’s heart may have skipped a beat. No matter how many times he saw them, it always did that. Not wanting to be caught staring, Adrien swept into a dramatic bow.

“I live to entertain, milady—it’s a part of the contract.” He said, straightening back up with a wink in Ladybug’s direction.

“Contract?” Ladybug said, raising one amused eyebrow.

“Of course. It’s the drama claws.” Adrien replied. Ladybug groaned, covering the blue expanse of her eyes with a palm placed squarely to her face. Even exasperated, she was absolutely beautiful.

“Oof. I fell right into that one,” She said. Adrien tried not to look smug.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, milady.” Adrien said, faking sincerity.

“An admirable initiative.” Someone said from the shadows.

In an instant, Ladybug and Chat Noir were on their feet, back to back, weapons drawn, scanning the rooftop. The shadows of the trees and trellises that had seemed so inviting before now filled Adrien with dread.

“Who said that?” Ladybug asked. The firm confidence in her voice calmed the part of Adrien that was beginning to panic. He relaxed into his stance, started to scan more calmly. The moon went behind the clouds, and then—

Something whistled out of the darkness. Chat Noir saw two dark blurs rush towards him in the dark, and batted both out of the sky with his staff. Both impacts jarred his grip as they slammed into his staff, clattering with deafening noise in the quiet.

“Chat!” His lady cried. Adrien whirled around, only to find his lady squinting at him in the darkness.

“Are you alright?” She whispered. Adrien went to nod, then caught a glimpse of a hooded figure emerging from the bushes behind her. There was something in his hand, pointed right at her back. Adrien’s blood froze.

“Ladybug, look out!” Chat shouted, tackling her aside. At the same time, he felt something jab his neck, and coughed.

“Chat—what happened?” His lady asked. Suddenly, though, she seemed so far away. It was like she was talking to him through a wall. 

“I’m… alright…” He mumbled. It was strange, his vision seemed to be getting darker, but the moon had just come back out. He looked behind him, and there the figure was again, empty eyes staring right at him. With an effort like moving a mountain, he raised his gloved hand, and pointed.

“Behind you…” He said, weakly. The shock and terror choked him. He was staring up at her face, now—his Ladybug. The woman of his dreams. She looked so afraid… and even then she was still beautiful. 

With that last thought, Adrien passed into darkness.

 

Marinette froze. She could see the dart, now, sticking out of Chat Noir’s neck. She knew her kitten—there was no doubt in her mind that it had been meant for her. Now… now, he was…

No. No time for that. She gently moved Chat Noir’s bod—no, Chat Noir, aside, and stood. The thing stared back at her. Even in the moonlight, she couldn’t make out much of a face under its hood. Its empty eyes, though, shone out at her from the shadow. Two pinpricks of light reflecting back at her. It would’ve terrified her if her heart had room right now for any other emotion than wrath.

“What did you do to him!” Marinette demanded, pulling her yoyo into a spin that thrummed with violence. The hooded thing tilted its head. Silent, it pulled something out of its cloak, and with a tinge of worry Marinette realized that it was a sword, shining in the moonlight. She almost missed the flicker of its hand, the small handful of dark objects that flew towards her.   
She whipped her yoyo forward, smashing them out of the air—and they exploded into smoke. A whole cloud of acrid darkness billowed over her. She began to cough—and she leapt forward over a flicker of moonlight in the dark. She heard the sword slice under her as she landed on the trellis. She glanced down, seeing only the cloud of smoke, and felt the trellis shake slightly under her feet. 

Acting on pure instinct, she leapt forward and landed on the rooftop proper, turning as she did. The thing stood, right behind where she’d been. Its eyes were still fixed on her. She ignored the spike of cold that shot down her spine, and straightened her posture.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, hoping to stall for time. The thing moved before she could even finish her sentence. It launched itself towards her. In that instant, she got a clearer look at it—the spikes sticking out of its arms, the cloak flying open and fluttering behind it like an open maw, a face with a mouth open in a terrifying grin.

Marinette threw herself forward into a knee slide, bending as far back as she could go. As the thing’s blade passed over her, she wrapped her yoyo wire around the thing’s hands and leapt back down into the garden. She twisted the thing backwards, flipping it up into the open air as she fell, and smashing the thing into the bench. The stone seat snapped in half under the impact, throwing up even more dust and a sharp yelp of pain.

The thing’s sword landed in a patch of chives, while the creature itself lay unmoving. Marinette was breathing hard. As moments passed, though, the adrenaline began to leave her system. Trying not to look at the cloaked thing, she rushed over to where Chat lay. Her kitty hadn’t moved.

“Chat…? Please, Chat…” She said, fighting the tears and picking up one of his hands. She turned his wrist to check for a pulse.

There was a sharp jabbing pain in her neck.

She reached up and pulled out the dart, and slowly turned. 

The thing’s white eyes stared back at her. It stood barely a meter away, some kind of a gun in hand, and already she was collapsing. Marinette spent a few desperate moments trying to rise, to do something. In the end, she was helpless. 

“I’m sorry, Chat…” She said. As she collapsed back onto Chat and the darkness took her, the last thing she saw was the creature’s vampiric grin.


	4. The Investigator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interrogation.

Marinette woke up slowly. She let out a groan—her body ached a little all over, though it was fading. Her headache didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though, and it was hard to think. Forcing her eye open, she tried to bring her hands up to her face. It was then that she realized that her hands were tied, arms bent backwards around what felt like a wooden post. That fact pierced through the haze and woke her up fully with a jolt of adrenaline. She sat up and began to look around in earnest as the memories came flooding back in a terrifying rush. 

Someone else groaned across from her, and she felt a tsunami of relief flood through her heart at the sight of Chat Noir blinking his eyes open from where he was slumped against a trellis pole opposite her. Still safe, then. Not hurt, at least, but there was no telling where—

“I see you’ve both come around.” A voice said, and Marinette twisted to see its source in a darker corner of the garden. It was still night, otherwise she would’ve spotted the thing earlier. Only, now it stood from where it had been sitting, and strode into the light—and its hood was down.  
It wasn’t an it at all. It was a boy in a costume. The things she’d thought were hollow, evil eyes were just white lenses in a mask. Under his cloak his clothing was a mix of reds, yellows, greens, and blacks. If it weren’t for the sword sheathed at his side and the smug smirk on his face, she’d have thought he was a teenager going to a costume party—not the demon she’d just defeated. Almost defeated.

“Let us go.” She said, managing a commanding voice in spite of the fear pooled in her gut.

“In due time. I require information first—and confirmation that neither of you will try anything unduly hasty against my person.” The boy replied.

“What, you mean like you just did to us?” Marinette snarled, trying to pull the handcuffs apart—to no avail.

“Nothing personal. I can't say I understand why people always seem to take exception to my methods. I must say, though, you caught me off guard—it’s been awhile since someone landed a hit on me like that.” He said.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or something?” Marinette said, scowling at him. Just looking at the smug look on his face was making her annoyed. It was yet another emotion to add to the confusion, terror, and achiness that left her feeling like punching him in the gut and throwing him in the Seine for good measure.

“M…milady… am I dreaming?” Chat said, and Marinette glanced back at her partner. She’d expected a setup for some sort of dumb pun—instead, she saw him staring at their assailant with something approaching awe.

“Chat…?” Marinette said. Her kitty turned to face her, and she swore she could see his concern morph into relief in front of her very eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile, but then looked back at sword-boy.

“You—it is you, isn’t it! What’re you doing here?” Chat said, ears perking with excitement. Their attacker smirked.

“Chatton, what are you talking about?” Marinette said, frowning. Her words came out sharp and harsh, moreso than she’d intended. Chat Noir flinched, looking back at her.

“B-but, Ladybug… don’t you know who he is?” Chat asked. Marinette stared back at him for a second, then squinted at sword-boy. For a second, something tugged at the edge of her memory, but it went away quickly.  
“Nothing? Nothing at all?” Sword-boy said, grinning at her patronizingly. 

“Sorry. Maybe you’re not as popular as you think you are.” Marinette said, matching his tone.

“Uh—milady, he’s Robin! The boy wonder!” Chat said, staring at Marinette like she’d just fallen from the moon. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette saw sword-boy twitch.

“The who?” She asked. What kind of person went by ‘boy wonder’?

“You know—” Chat said, looking back and forth between her and sword-boy wonder. “Batman’s sidekick!”

“Protege.” Sword-boy wonder corrected, clearly trying—and failing—to not look irritated.

“Batman… he sounds familiar. He’s a superhero?” Marinette said. She watched Chat’s mouth fall open in absolute shock, and had to chuckle. “What?”

“Y-yes, he’s a super hero! He’s one of the founding members of the Justice League, milady—the world’s greatest detective!” Chat said.

“I thought that was Poirot?” Marinette said, genuinely a bit confused. The Justice League definitely rung a bell—the international superhero association, if memory served—but she honestly hadn’t heard much about it. Superheroes were exciting, sure, but Marinette's time had always belonged to the worlds of baking and fashion. She happened to know Poirot as much for his detective work as for his trend-setting style and impeccably trimmed mustache.

“Uh… who?” Chat said, cocking his head. It was Marinette’s turn to be shocked.

“You know, Hercule Poirot! The great detective of Belgium. He’s solved thousands of cases.” She said.

“Oh… uh, well, I’ll take your word for it, milady—I guess Batman is the world’s second-greatest detective.” Chat said. Sword-boy wonder twitched again.

“So, wait, I’ve definitely heard of the Justice League—which powers does Batman have, again? Is he the one with the ring?” Marinette asked.

“Alright, that’s it.” Sword-boy wonder said, stepping forward and reminding Marinette of exactly what situation they were in. “Fascinating as this conversation is, neither of you are leaving before you answer my questions. But first, yes—I am Robin. I’m Batman’s protege, and I’m here on behalf of the Justice League.” Robin said.

“What? Really!? But why?” Chat Noir asked. Robin squinted at him—his mask even articulated it, and Marinette had no idea how.

“You tell me. Paris is in crisis. We've heard rumors of storms, gigantic monsters, armies of knights—even dinosaurs, of all things--yet, no hard data. No one seems to be able to tell us anything specific about it. Bits and pieces filter through the news, but all anyone really seems to know is that something called Hawkmoth is causing all of this mess and Ladybug and Chat Noir are here to save the day.” Robin said.

“Oh, so that’s why you attacked us out of nowhere and handcuffed us to posts?” Marinette said, glaring at sword-boy wonder, who sniffed dismissively.

“No. That was a test. The Justice League deputized and sent me here to evaluate you both, the scale and nature of the threat that you face, and determine whether you’re up to the task on your own.” Robin said.

“Wait, really?” Chat Noir said, and Marinette heard reverence in his voice that irked her even more. 

“I suppose they told you to sneak up on us in the dark and try to kill us both, too?” Marinette said, sickly-sweet. Robin met her glare evenly.

“That was on my own initiative; I’ve seen some footage. The segments of your fights that I observed told me you only ever make your move when you have a plan—you always seem to have the drop on your opponents. I simply wished to test your reactions in an ambush scenario… and I must say, you did about as well as expected. Also, you were never actually in danger. The situation was under control.” Robin said, finishing with a small smirk in Marinette’s direction that made her teeth clench in irritation. His smug arrogance reminded her of Chloe, if the blonde girl had been more precise and clever about it. Before she could respond, however, he continued.

“That isn’t important right now. There are three things I need to know; the first is, though the answer is rather obvious, have you been formally trained?” Robin asked. Marinette glanced at Chat Noir. His eyes met her own.

They’d become a great deal better at nonverbal communication over the course of their partnership—she could tell from the small furrow of his brow and the look in his eyes that he was going to follow her lead. Much as she didn’t want to give sword-boy wonder anything, and much as he’d drugged her, scared her, insulted her, and generally gotten on her nerves, she also didn’t want to spend another minute in his company.

“Not really. Why, do superheroes usually have training?” Marinette said.

“If they don’t have powers, yes. Speaking of which—what powers do you possess?” Robin asked. Marinette felt a twinge of unease at this, and decided that no mention would be made of Tikki, or Chat Noir’s kwami. In fact, since there was a chance of slipping up and giving up personal info…

“That would take a lot longer to explain than I really want to. Besides, the profile in the stat page of the Ladyblog is accurate enough.” Marinette said. Robin cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

“The what?” He asked.

“You know—the Ladyblog. The one run by Alya Cesaire, the journalist?” Marinette said. The sword-boy wonder’s eyebrows furrowed—actually furrowed—for a moment, and it was another moment more before he said anything.

“The… Ladyblog.” He said. Marinette felt something like victory at the abject confusion he seemed to be trying and totally failing to hide.

“That’s the one.” Marinette said.

“You… you gave an interview, about your powers, to some amateur blog?” Robin said.

“It’s not amateur!” Chat Noir piped up. “It’s the best source of Ladybug & Chat Noir news around. It’s all beclaws of Alya’s hard work.” He said. Robin said nothing for another moment.

“I… see.” He said. “Well, then—what about you, cat? Have you received training?” He continued, not-so-subtly changing the topic. Marinette held in a snicker.

“Uh… no, not really. Wait—I trained in fencing! Does that count?” Chat said. Sword-boy wonder’s brow furrowed a little again.

“…I suppose so.” Robin said, frowning. Chat Noir grinned.

“Hope I haven’t foiled your line of questioning—just trying to stay sharp.” Her kitty said. Marinette giggled. Robin stared.

“Did you just—no. Never mind. Second question: what do you know about these anomalies, and this Hawkmoth creature that is causing them?” Robin asked. Marinette and Chat shared another look.

“Again, all of this is on—“ Marinette started.

“The Ladyblog. Got it.” Sword-boy wonder said, scowling. “Have you given everything you know about this to this Alya Cesaire as well?” He asked. Marinette shrugged as best as she could with her arms still shackled.

“Pretty much—the more the public knows about Hawkmoth, the more they can help, and the safer they can be.” Marinette said. Robin stared hard at her for a moment, then nodded.

“Fair. Last question: what aid do you require from the Justice League?” He asked. Marinette felt a surge of irritation, even anger, building inside her. The gall—the absolute nerve of this boy—to ambush them and bind them to trellis posts, now to ask them what help they needed and assume that they wanted or needed help at all.

She was about to open her mouth and tell him exactly where he could send his ‘aid’, but then she glanced over at Chat Noir. The look in his eyes made her pause. He didn’t look indignant or offended. He looked expectant, even hopeful. His eyes were wide, his mouth up in a small grin.

Marinette thought back to those moments where they’d needed help desperately, where only luck and quick thinking had stood between them and disaster. She remembered exactly how hard it was to keep this up, and schoolwork, and still manage a social life, and get any sleep at all. It occurred to her that her kitty must have had to work through the same things, might even have it a little worse if she’d understood the hints he’d given about his home life correctly. This decision wasn’t just about her.

So, she sighed. She let go of as much of the frustration, anger, and fear as she could, letting them flow out with her breath. Last, she looked up at Robin.

“What kind of aid are you offering?” Marinette asked.

“Anything the League can provide, within reason.” Robin said. Marinette frowned.

“Well… I’m not really sure what we would ask for. Any ideas, Chat?” She asked. Her partner mulled it over.

“Hmm… a steady supply of camembert cheese would be a purrfect start, if it’s not purrsumptious to ask.” He said, winking at Marinette. Sword-boy wonder’s entire face seemed to twitch. 

“I… but… you—I can’t even—you cannot be serious.” Robin said, spluttering. Chat frowned.

“No, for real. It would be a big help, actually.” He said. 

“I’ll… run it by the league.” Robin said, sounding as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.

“Well, we answered your questions. We’d appreciate it if you’d let us go, now.” Marinette said, forcing politeness. Robin looked as if he was going to say something else, but then just shook his head. Marinette was expecting him to walk over and uncuff them one by one, but instead he simply tapped a button on one of his gauntlets and Marinette felt them unclip from her hands. She her hands up and glanced at them, rubbing away a little more of the achiness, before looking back up to see Robin standing with two pairs of handcuffs hanging off of a gauntlet. He noticed her stare and smirked, stowing them away in one of what had to be a dozen separate pouched in his belt.

“Homing cuffs. It pays to come prepared. Anyhow, I’ll be in touch.” He said. Marinette felt like sticking out her tongue at him, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead she went to check on Chat Noir, who stood unsteadily from the ground and grinned at her. 

“Don’t worry about me, milady—I’ve still got all nine lives.” He said. Marinette scoffed.

“Of course kitty. No little bird could put a scratch on you.” She said, glancing back to see sword-boy wonder’s reaction-only to be met with an empty garden. A chill raced up her spine.

“Where did he…”she started, looking around. Robin, however, had vanished.


End file.
